


(No) Rest

by i_am_a_hog



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:50:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26750149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_am_a_hog/pseuds/i_am_a_hog
Summary: Francis’ hand lay on top of James’, his fingertips resting against the top of James’ thigh. He swallowed and opened his eyes. Francis had shuffled closer, sitting only inches away from James and suddenly, he was overrun by a wave of deep and utter sadness.If there was a god, he truly despised James. For all he had tried and all he had worked and joked and been heroic and obedient, for everything he had done, he was now rewarded with this: A situation he craved, that could cost him everything and had no perceivable way to end in anything but complete disaster. He felt the tears pooling in his eyes, as he looked at Francis, trying to blink them away, but instead they started rolling down his cheeks.
Relationships: Captain Francis Crozier/Commander James Fitzjames
Comments: 3
Kudos: 39





	(No) Rest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [caravaggiosbrushes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/caravaggiosbrushes/gifts).



> Happy Birthday, Susan @caravaggiosbrushes!! <3 I hope you enjoy this :))

James ran a hand down his face; he was tired, the night was never-ending, he had scurvy, and somehow, he felt like he had to fix this entire situation himself. Except there wasn’t a solution, there was no way out and thinking just made James feel worse. He had a headache. 

Next to him, Francis sighed. They were both staring down at the map on the table before them, trying to find a way, a food source, a connection to the world. A way out. There was no way out, James thought again. He clenched his teeth - it hurt.

“Call it a night?” Francis asked. James looked over at him; somehow, despite everything he had gone through, Francis was holding up better than everyone else. He looked alive, his hair showed no sign of receding, no trace of blood; his hands were solid, firm on the map between them, fingernails neatly trimmed. He looked more healthy than when they had departed from Greenhithe.

“Mmh,” James muttered. A noncommittal noise. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to go to sleep, let alone get some actual rest.

“James?” Francis said, his Irish accent lending a sound to the name, that made James snap to attention immediately. Francis put a hand on James’ wool-clad forearm, a warm, solid touch. The sensation spread through James’ veins, warming him from within. He knew his emotions, he was aware of their meaning and he was grieving for himself, the lost case that he was, being hopelessly in love with his commanding officer.

“Mmh?” James made again. 

“Are you feeling alright?” Francis’ voice was soft - not his usual gruff tone. 

“Fine,” James said.

“If you’re sure.”

He could tell that Francis didn’t believe him for a second but he wasn’t bothered about it. Francis’ hand was still resting on his arm, his thumb drawing slow circles against the fabric of James’ sweater. It was soothing. He leaned back his head against the bulkhead’s cold, solid wood and closed his eyes. Francis didn’t stop, his hand moved lower, until their hands met.

James’ heartbeat was speeding up.

“Alright?” Francis asked again. James let out a whispered “yes.” He was sure he was betraying all his emotions, all his hopes and desires in that moment, but somehow, he didn’t care. 

Francis’ hand lay on top of James’, his fingertips resting against the top of James’ thigh. He swallowed and opened his eyes. Francis had shuffled closer, sitting only inches away from James and suddenly, he was overrun by a wave of deep and utter sadness.

If there was a god, he truly despised James. For all he had tried and all he had worked and joked and been heroic and obedient, for everything he had done, he was now rewarded with this: A situation he craved, that could cost him everything and had no perceivable way to end in anything but complete disaster. He felt the tears pooling in his eyes, as he looked at Francis, trying to blink them away, but instead they started rolling down his cheeks.

“James,” Francis said softly, pulling back his hand, ending any point of contact they had had. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have, I - I’m sorry.” He made an attempt to get up, but James found his voice.

“No.” He choked on the sound, swallowing his grief, before taking a shaky breath. “It’s nothing, Francis. It’s not you.”

Francis looked at him sceptically. “I thought -”

“You thought right,” James said softly. “I’m just… This entire… thing,” he made a vague gesture. “Everything. We’re not going to get out, are we, Francis?”

Francis opened his mouth to reply but James knew the answer.

“We won’t. And now, the potential of - of happiness, in this trap we won’t escape… I don’t - I -”

Before he could finish, Francis bridged the distance and pulled him into a kiss. James tasted his tears and the tea they had drunk - and Francis. Francis, who was holding him, pulling him closer with one arm at James’ back and one hand at his jaw, Francis who was kissing him. 

They broke apart and James didn’t dare look at Francis. It was too much - he felt more tears escape his eyes as he blinked. 

“Hey,” Francis whispered. “James… shh,” he made and took James’ face between his hands, wiping away his tears with a thumb. An inelegant sobbing noise escaped James’ throat at the tender motion and as he leaned forward.

Francis held him, let James cry into his collar, while he rubbed his back and mumbled into his ear. The small part of James’ mind that could think rationally, wondered vaguely how Francis could be so calm and steady, but really, he was glad that he had Francis’ solid frame to cling to.

He wasn’t sure how long they sat like that, but when James pulled back, eyes puffy from crying, looking at the wall next to Francis’ head sheepishly, his First chuckled softly. It was a noise James had never heard before. Francis didn’t laugh, the most he allowed himself was a smile for special occasions. If James believed in magic - which, perhaps, he should, given they were being haunted by a creature that quite possibly could not come from this realm - he would have been sure, Francis’ laughter was a spell, designed especially to enrapture James. Instead, he merely once again came to terms with how smitten he was with his captain.

“Come here,” Francis said and this time, James didn’t cry. Their kiss was soft and exhilarating; Francis was everything James had wanted for a long time, and now he was here, holding James, kissing him, again and again, capturing James’ lips like he had no other purpose in life - and James kissed him back. Francis’ hair was soft between his fingers, the stubble of his beard against James’ own unshaven skin felt exciting and new. Perfect. 

For the first time in weeks, James’ mind was devoid of fears and thoughts of their certain doom. As he leaned his forehead against Francis’ shoulder and felt his warm breath rush past his ear, James felt like he could rest now.

**Author's Note:**

> :)))))))  
> Hope you liked it :D Feel free to yell at me in the comments <3


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